A Candle in the Light
by Ellery Grey
Summary: Mulder and Scully are called in to help investigate threats against several high-ranking government officials when the unthinkable happens.
1. Chapter 1

He could hear other agents calling his name as he ran to her.

"Agent Mulder. Agent Mulder!"

He ignored their calls and began sprinting towards his partner. Someone grabbed him roughly by the arm as he zipped by, and he violently threw the agent off of him.

"Agent Mulder," the man called wearily, grabbing him again. "Mulder, give them some space." They were trying to keep him away from her, probably for his protection as much as for hers, but there was no way he was going to stand idly by as these events unfolded. The grip on his bicep was like stone, and it made Mulder's blood run cold. Rage spread through his veins in a hot wave of burning anger.

"LET ME GO TO HER!" he screamed with a fury that scared even himself. When the other agent didn't let go of him, he continued. "You are out of your god-damned MIND if you think I'm just going to SIT HERE AND WATCH. GET THE HELL OUT OF MY WAY!" He was so angry he was shaking, and the tremble his voice gave struck that much more fear into the officers trying to keep him at bay.

He could see the reluctance in the agent's eyes as he released him. Mulder wasted no time and broke into another sprint, his mind numb as he got closer and closer to her. He couldn't think, couldn't even see straight. The only thing running through his mind was something between a plea and a threat to God.

The forest of agents was almost as thick as the trees around them, and the closer he got to his partner, the thicker it became. Mercifully, they tried as best as they could to get out of his way as he barreled at them. He finally saw the sea of paramedic uniforms and almost collapsed with relief, slowing to a brisk jog as he approached them. They were working feverishly, one of them barking orders as the rest rushed to follow them. He knew right away from the sight that she wasn't dead.

As he neared, one of the medics stopped him. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay where you are." Mulder heard the man but didn't listen. His eyes, wide as the flying saucers he claimed were 'out there,' were fixed upon his partner as he kept walking. Once again, a hand reached out to stop him, but he pried it off.

Dana Scully was lying on the ground, surrounded by a flurry of EMTs checking her vitals and getting pic lines started for IVs. His eyes immediately went to her chest, and upon seeing the gentle rise and fall of her body, he felt some of the tension draining away. Not much, but some. He couldn't tell if she was conscious or not. Part of him hoped for her sake that she she wasn't. There was a large tear in her pant leg near her thigh and her suit jacket was nowhere to be found. Her feet were scratched and bloody, no doubt the result of running through the woods barefoot. She also had a few cuts and scrapes on her cheeks and forehead, but thankfully nothing that appeared too serious. Her left wrist was swollen and bruised, obviously broken. She also appeared pale and dehydrated, but Mulder could not tell how severely. Standing mere feet away from her, he tried to process the image in front of him. The lump in his throat was almost too much to overcome, but he found his voice.

"Scully?" he asked quietly, suddenly feeling more panicked.

"Sir? Unless you're a doctor, you're in the way," another one of the medics snapped at him.

"I'm her partner," he stated matter-of-factly, having no intention to leave. The medic looked at him disapprovingly, but did nothing else to shoo him.

Mulder dropped to his knees on the earth next to her. He wanted desperately to gather her in his arms and make the nightmare go away, but he knew that would obstruct the paramedics too much. Instead, he ever-so-gently brushed an auburn strand of hair off of her forehead and spoke to her again.

"Scully," he said. As he spoke, tears began to stream down his cheeks, full-blown fear finally giving way to the anger he had felt moments before.

He was surprised when, though she kept her eyes closed, her brow furrowed and she turned her head slightly in response. "Mulder?"

It was nothing more than a whisper, slight and scratchy, but it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

"Yeah, Scully," he replied with a choked noise resembling a laugh, more tears escaping his eyes. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear. "It's me. I need you to hang on for me, Scully. Please? Just hang on."


	2. Chapter 2

Several days earlier...

The psychological profile Fox Mulder had developed over the course of the last three days had been concise and thorough, some of the finest, most detailed profiling he'd ever done in all his years with the Bureau. The case itself was one of the biggest that had come across his desk in years, due in large part not to the crime itself, but who it affected.

Several diplomats, officers, and, most recently, a United States senator, all residing in Washington, D.C., had been receiving threatening letters over the past six months, all from the same anonymous sender. The letters had started out as a simple annoyance, and nothing more than a single glance had been given to them at first, the initial messages being thrown out by aides or secretaries. It was not long before the letters started becoming more personal, the author writing about intricate details of each recipient, the threats becoming more specific and dangerous. Each letter contained a phrase or saying at the bottom of the page. Most spoke of general retaliation or reiterated a threat posed in the writing. The DCPD had gotten involved, and it seemed the presence of law enforcement only spurred the perpetrator on to further mayhem.

For a long time, that's all the letters were-threats. However, three days before the case got to Mulder, things had escalated enormously. A senator's son had been abducted shortly after a letter had been mailed to his Washington office, the crime seemingly carried out just as promised. After seventy-two hours and no sign of the boy or the abductor, Walter Skinner, acting under pressure from the Director himself, had handed the case to his top profiler.

Mulder had taken the reigns from there, and had hammered out some of his most impressive work to date. The person they were looking for would be a male, between the ages of 25 and 40 years old. He would be incredibly organized and highly intelligent, with a stable lifestyle, perhaps even married, and would be gainfully employed. This individual paid great attention to the details, and was painstaking in his work, so much so that no trace hair or fibers could be detected or gathered as evidence from the letters. No saliva, no fingerprints, not even so much as the ink or paper he was using could be traced. He was an angry individual who felt he had been wronged, and his escalation indicated that he wanted attention brought to and justice served for this infraction. They were looking for someone that would never be suspected of committing these crimes; a wolf in sheep's clothing.

He sat, now, at his desk in his basement office, looking intently at a copy of the letter sent immediately before nine-year-old Matthew Rowen had been kidnapped from his bedroom in suburban Maryland. Matthew's father, newly-elected senator Ellis Rowen, had been in office for just shy of one year, and as far as the politician could tell, he had not made any enemies severe enough to warrant suspicion of anyone he could think of. He had replaced a long-serving, well-respected man who had made powerful allies in Washington and had held a great deal of influence over the goings-on in the Capitol, but other than that, nothing seemed to stand out. However, Mulder sat staring at the last line of the letter that had been delivered through the mail to Rowen's office.

faciam ut mei memineris.

Translated from Latin: I'll make you remember me.

Sighing in frustration as he dropped the copy onto his blotter, movement from the doorway caught his eye.

"You ready for this?" Dana Scully had a look of excitement in her eyes. He could tell immediately that she had found something, perhaps even a break in the case.

"Whatcha got?" he asked, honestly intrigued by what she would have to say. Her investigative skills were nothing if not superb, and, not for the first time, he was thankful to have her working by his side. She proceeded to walk into the office, stopping just in front of his desk and folding her arms across her chest, several pieces of paper tucked into her right hand.

"Our senator, Ellis Rowen? I just got off the phone with the chairman of a sub-committee he was sitting on. Apparently, this sub-committee is currently collaborating with the FBI to rewrite counterterrorism and intelligence policy, as it pertains to the Bureau."

He quirked his head and leaned forward a bit in his chair, regarding her with an expression of curiosity. "Really?" He wasn't quite sure how the pieces all fit together yet, but he knew instinctively there was more to her story.

"Mmhmm," she affirmed. "It seems there have been some ruffled feathers with some of the veteran Counterterrorism Division agents. So much so that several of them stormed out of a meeting last week. According to my source, tensions have been running high for the past year or so."

"High enough to warrant kidnapping?"

"Well," she reasoned, "it fits with the timeline of the letters. Senator Rowen has been sitting on this committee for about a year. The letters started six months ago. I'd say that's not much of a stretch." With a shrug, "In any case, I'd say it's at least worth checking out."

He had to concede to that. Though he'd spent the majority of his time on the case working up a profile, it seemed there was not much clear-cut about the circumstances. They were going to have to dig deep on this one, and with a nine-year-old's life in the balance, they couldn't afford to waste time. He stood up to grab his suit coat. "This contact of yours, the chairman of the sub-committee?"

"Travis Henson. His office is in the Hart Building over on Constitution. We have an appointment in 45 minutes." She gave him the slightest grin of self-satisfaction, and he once again marveled at their ability to communicate silently, his partner having anticipated his next move.

Throwing his arms into his coat sleeves, he moved to the door. "Well Agent Scully let's not keep the good senator waiting.


End file.
